Timeless
by Rice Pips
Summary: Chakotay has lived 15 years loving a ghost...
1. Chapter 1

(So, I posted this on Tumblr and was encouraged to post in other places. So, here this is. It's filled with angst and I hope you enjoy!)

 **Timeless**

"Tell me about her." Tessa looks across at him, she leans back against the bulkhead of the shuttle and watches him closely. "Tell me about, Janeway."

Chakotay turns away, back to the comfort of the familiar console. He can't go there. Even now, 15 years later, he can't talk about her. He's holding her back, but he can feel her presence, see the quick flash of a red uniform out the corner of his eye, hear her whisper his name.

"There's nothing to tell," he finally replies. He closes his eyes to block out the image of her body, perfectly preserved in her frozen grave, but it doesn't work. Nothing works. She's there in his mind, has been since that day 15 years ago, haunting him, refusing to leave. He doesn't want her to leave. The pain of seeing her again is so achingly beautiful, it's the only time he feels something other than emptiness.

"You can't fool me, Chakotay. You might be able to fool yourself, but you can't fool me. Tell me about her," Tessa presses. She's never been this forceful before, but time is running out.

Chakotay sighs, "I've told you, there's nothing to tell. She was the Captain, I was her First Officer. That's it. That's all."

"Liar..." he hears the whispered word bounce around inside his brain. And there she is, hands on her hips, eyes sparkling and she's smiling at him from across the shuttle. He blinks. She's gone.

"She was more than that. Come on, Chakotay. I saw how you looked at her today. I can tell it's bothering you." Tessa pushes, oblivious to the continual torture that rolls around inside his mind. Usually she would back off at this point, but not now, not today.

Chakotay offers a sharp bark of a laugh. Bothering him? That was an understatement. Their names start to roll through his mind. And she's there again, arms folded, smiling infuriatingly at him. He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut.

"They are all dead!" he snaps. "Of course it bothered me!"

Tessa gets to her feet and moves to the chair next to him. She leans over and places her hand onto his arm.

"Talk to me, tell me about her, about, Kathryn." Tessa says, her voice soft.

Chakotay shakes his head, swallowing back the lump growing in his throat. The image of her laid at an awkward angle amongst the ice growing clearer in his mind. Her face, frozen in time, begins to thaw before his eyes, the blue hue of her skin transforming into the soft pink of life, her closed eyes softening back to the beautiful shade he always admired, her hair loosening back into the colour and style he remembers, but has spent 15 years trying to forget.

"I can't!" he gasps, desperate to keep her ghost at bay.

"Yes, you can," Tessa urges, her grip on his arm strengthening.

"Why? Why do you want to know?" He pleads, the anguish clear in his voice.

"Because, when this works, you will be back with her and not with me. I won't recall any of this. I'm giving up everything for her. I'd like to know her. Like you knew her."

"But you won't remember," he reasons, battling with the images that threaten to overwhelm him. He thinks he hears her call his name again, but shakes his head to rid himself of that torturing thought.

"I will for a few hours. That's good enough for me. Tell me about her." Tessa says gently. She strokes his arm and he can't hold it back any longer.

The image in his mind blossoms into full colour. Her voice is there in his ears, in his mind. She's always been there, "Have you missed me?" she asks, that flirty smile playing across her lips.

"Yes," he gasps out loud. He feels Tessa's hand on his arm and he pulls away as if she is burning him. He grips the console, shocked and confused at the images in his mind and her voice in his ears.

Tessa reaches out again, "Talk to me. Tell me."

He's battling with his inner demons. Battling the raw emotion that never went away, that didn't ease with time as the councillors said. And she's there. Sat across from him at the dinner table in her quarters. Disregarding his concerns with a wave of a hand and a flirty smile. She's drinking wine, eyes sparkling, talking to him of how they had waited too long.

"Are you with me?" she asks and he curses the universe that he never had the courage to fight her on it. She was so happy and he loved seeing her that way, he gave the only answer he could.

"Always."

And Gods help him, he meant it. He can't stop looking at her. The images are always so vivid, so clear, they make 15 years feel like mere seconds. He wishes he could remain in his memories forever. Where Kathryn is alive and he is happy.

"Chakotay..." her voice is soft, she's out of her seat and in front of him, her hand stroking his cheek. Any concerns for tomorrow blown out the airlock as the pure scent of her assaults his whole being.

"Have you missed me?" she asks, his mind creating things that never happened. Or did they? He's lived so long loving her ghost, he can't determine what is real anymore.

"Yes," he gasps, she smiles and strokes his cheek.

"Our last night in the Delta Quadrant, how should we celebrate?" she asks and there is no doubt of the intentions in her voice.

"How would you like to celebrate?" he asks, his hand reaching up to cover hers on his cheek.

She smiles softly and gazes at him from beneath her eyelashes. She licks her lips, "Together," she answers. "Are you with me?"

"Always."

The image twists, he's in her bed, she's beneath him and surrounding him, he's in heaven, she's holding onto him and he's barely clinging onto to any form of coherency.

"This time tomorrow," she rocks her hips against him, "We can be together," she gasps, reaching up to kiss him. "Earth."

"Yes," he groans, kissing her neck.

"It's what I've always wanted," she whispers. "You."

He can't hold back any longer and he's calling her name, the image blurring and disappearing before his eyes. And she's there, before him, leaning against the console in front of him in that cocky, self-assured way she always did.

"Have you missed me?" she asks, her head tilted to one side. Her face blossoms into a beautiful smile that takes his breath away.

"Yes," he chokes.

She fades away before him and he tries to reach out for her, but she's gone. Tessa appears in front of him, her eyes filled with concern.

"Chakotay? Are you OK?"

"I love her," he gasps. "Always. That's all there is to say."

Tessa nods, swallowing the pain the truth brings her, though she's always known it. Known it since she met him. He has no idea how many times he's called her, Kathryn by mistake. She's never called him on it. She just accepted it.

"I know," she responds. "I just needed to hear you say it."

She gets up and pats his shoulder, moving away to the back of the shuttle.

"I'm sorry," he says to the empty room. His head drops to his chest before finally, he looks up at the console and continues with his preparations.

"Have you missed me?" The words are uttered into the silence in a voice he barely recognises as his own.

"You know I have..." comes the reply inside his head.

"I hope so. Just don't pull away from me, Kathryn."

"I won't. Come back to me and you'll see," her voice echoes through his mind and he's treated to the final image of her laughing, confetti in her hair, as she turns to look at him, sparkling eyes, filled with hope.

He shakes his head sadly, the image disappearing into the depths of his mind. He knows that deep down, if this works and they erase the last 15 years away, she'll pull back from him. That night only existed under the proviso of them reaching home. There's no room for them in the Delta Quadrant. If it fails, he's still lost her. Either way, he's destined to live with a broken heart and the ghost of what could have been.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time he sees her, it's 43 days, 4 hours and 37 minutes since it happened.

He has barely slept. He can't recall the last decent meal he ate and he has no idea where Harry is.

Since their unplanned arrival in the Alpha Quadrant, no Voyager on their tail, they've been prodded and poked by the Federation. Questioned, interrogated and paraded.

He hates them all.

He hates the councillors and their pathetic phrases, their nods and hums as he speaks, they think they understand, but they haven't got a clue. He hates the doctors and their hyposprays. Their constant questions about his sleep, his eating, his physical state. He hates the sympathetic looks from everyone around him, the supposed words of comfort, the gentle pats to the arm or shoulder. He hates the small talk, the constant hounding from the media. Everyone wanting a piece of him.

He. Hates. It. All.

He wishes he had died back there with them.

He knows that's how Harry feels. But, it's been weeks since he saw him and he can't bring himself to care.

Then the message arrives. From a Mrs G Janeway and he feels his entire insides twist uncontrollably.

He leaves it exactly two days before he brings himself to open the message. He runs his hands through his hair; Gretchen Janeway wants to meet up with him.

He stands and paces his basic room. He can't, he can't meet her. He can't sit in the same room as her mother. He just can't.

He tries to think of what to say to her, how to say no, but he finds himself agreeing to her request anyway. He smiles grimly at the screen as he sends his affirmative reply - it seems he can't deny any Janeway woman. Before he knows it, he's stood outside a large house in the depths of Indiana looking across at a woman he's never met before, but feels an affinity towards.

Gretchen Janeway is just an older image of her daughter. Small and slim in stature, but an imposing presence that captures him immediately. There's just one difference. Even from this distance, he can see the grief etched in her face, her stance, and it hits him like a shuttle. This is Kathryn's home. The place she grew up. He gasps a shaking breath and walks towards the mother of the woman he lost.

"Commander Chakotay," Gretchen greets, her voice heavy with pain. He notices she has the same coloured eyes as Kathryn.

"Just, Chakotay," he says, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry, Mrs Janeway."

Gretchen gives a shake of her head, her grey bob swishing gently from side to side. Even that movement seems to hurt her. "Please, call me, Gretchen."

She takes his arm and pulls him gently, but firmly, towards the house.

He can feel her presence the moment he walks through the door. She's everywhere, in the walls, the pictures, the pure essence of the house. This place is, Kathryn. It hurts, but damn, it feels good too.

Gretchen encourages him to sit in the living room and she sits opposite him. He wonders what she wants to say, but has barely time to settle into the soft cushions of the chair before her first question leaves her lips.

"Tell me how it happened," she begins.

Chakotay sighs and dips his head, "I can't answer that. I don't know the answers."

"I've read the reports. I've had every Admiral in the Federation showing me one report or another, but I want to know how it happened. You were there. You helped make the decision." She's angry, hurting, her voice is sharp, but there's no mistaking that edge of devastation that lingers within each word.

"I know as much as you. We took a risk and it failed." Chakotay tries to keep his voice even, but on the final word, he fails.

Gretchen' eyes soften, but she doesn't let them leave Chakotay's face.

"Do you think she's dead?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper.

Chakotay closes his eyes and lets his head drop to his chest.

"The data suggests..."

"Data!" Gretchen spits, making him jump slightly. "I've read the data and I'm not a scientist, but even I know the odds are too slim. But, do you, Mr Chakotay, think my daughter is dead?" her voice cracking with anger and grief.

Chakotay looks up and reels from the raw emotion in Gretchen's eyes.

"Yes," he nods. "There is no way they could have survived re-entry at that velocity."

Gretchen closes her eyes. "That's the first damned honest answer anyone has given me over this whole thing. They all think they are sparing my feelings, offering me unfounded hope, but, I know she's dead," she opens her eyes and looks at him. "I feel it," she lays a hand to her heart, "I know she's gone."

Chakotay nods. He understands.

"Why?" Gretchen asks suddenly. "Why did you all go ahead with it? The odds were not good and the data suggested it was a disaster waiting to happen, so, why?"

Chakotay looks at the floor. It's a question he's asked himself too many times to count, but the answer is always the same.

"Kathryn thought it was worth the risk," he replies finally.

"Didn't you challenge her?" Gretchen presses.

Chakotay gives a hollow laugh, "I tried. But..."

"She was stubborn." Gretchen finishes.

Stubborn, convincing, alluring, beautiful. Words he thinks, but cannot say.

"I've grieved for her once, when Voyager first went missing, but I knew then she was still alive, I just knew. But, deep down I always believed the job would take her from me. Just like it did her Father."

The silence that follows that statement is deafening. He can hear the blood pounding in his ears.

"Where are my manners? Would you like some tea?" Gretchen gets up and he can tell she's fighting back the tears.

"That would be nice," he replies. He doesn't want tea, but he knows they both need a few moments alone.

As Gretchen leaves the room, it's then that he sees her for the first time. She's stood in the doorway her mother just walked through, leaning casually, arms folded and she's looking at him with that indulgent smile she saved only for him.

He feels the breath leave his body and he folds himself over, covering the back of his head with his arms. When he recovers himself enough to look up, she's gone.

When Gretchen returns, she sees the look on his face and she knows. Knows now why he didn't fight her daughter. Knows now, he will be tortured forever. Her heart aches for him.

"How long have you been in love with her?" she asks, setting the tea down onto the table.

Chakotay can't speak, he's not surprised by her question and knows she deserves an answer. With the little strength he has left, he replies, "Too long."

"And did she know?"

A million thoughts run through his mind, StarFleet, Lake George, protocol, her fiancé, New Earth, but he has to give as honest an answer he can. His mind flows back to that last night,

"Yes, I believe she did."

Gretchen smiles, "Then I am glad she died knowing she was loved."

Hours later and Chakotay finally falls onto his bed and sleep consumes him, but not for long.

He wakes with a start, and as his eyes adjust, he sees a shadow sitting on the edge of his bed. He sits up and the shadow grows clearer.

"Kathryn?" he asks, his heart pounding, his throat tight with emotion and something akin to hope.

The figure stands and moves closer and it's her. She's there with him. Her eyes are soft, her hair falling gently around her face. She kneels before him, resting her hands on his thighs as she does so.

"Chakotay..." she says softly, her face sincere and filled with something he dares not define. She gazes up at him, "I'm here."

"Kathryn..." the name comes out as a moan.

"Are you with me?" she asks, pulling herself upwards, closer to him, one hand moving to rest over his heart in that familiar move of hers.

"Always," he answers immediately.

She smiles at him and he can feel the warmth of her skin as she reaches up to caress his cheek, tenderness flowing from her eyes. It's her. She's here with him, and yet, he knows the truth.

"Stay," he pleads. "Stay with me."

"I can't," she whispers, and then she's gone, and he's alone in the room once more.

He can't stop the gulping gasps that erupt from his body and he crumples back onto the bed, loneliness, guilt and despair consuming him.

It's the first time she comes to him, but it won't be the last.


	3. Chapter 3

(A/N: Thank you to everyone tho has read and reviewed. I've stepped this up a rating due to bad language. As always, the characters are not mine.)

The medical officer -a stout man with a large mass of greying hair- sits behind an imposing desk and gazes across at Chakotay, offering further therapy with a sympathetic smile.

"No!" Chakotay snaps. Frustration evident in the way he's sat and the tone of his voice. "I don't want therapy! Don't you see? I need the hypospray."

"I'm sorry, Chakotay. You've had enough in the last few months. I can't give you anymore," the Doctor answers, shaking his head.

"I can't sleep without it!" Chakotay explodes, slamming his hands onto the desk.

The Doctor doesn't flinch, he sighs and sits back in his chair. "How much are you drinking, Chakotay?"

Chakotay rubs at his hair in frustration, "What the fuck does that have to do with anything?" he spits.

"I'm worried about you. You're drinking too much. Relying on medication. It's been 6 months, you need to try and move on. Bereavement therapy will help."

Chakotay almost launches himself across the table to strangle the life out of the judgemental bastard.

"Move on?" he roars. "Move on? They died! 150 people died! And I survived! Why? Why am I alive and she isn't?"

"Survivor's guilt," the doctor nods as if it's the most obvious and simple thing in the whole universe. "It's common. Therapy will help."

Chakotay stands up so quickly, his chair tips over. "Therapy will never help me," he shouts. "Don't you understand? She's dead? They all are!"

He stumbles towards the door and ignores the doctor calling after him. He bursts out into the waiting room. Blindly, he looks about, sees the looks from the waiting patients. And then, there she is. Waiting, sitting, hands clasped on her lap. She raises an eyebrow.

"And you can fuck off too!" he yells at an empty chair where he's certain he saw her sitting. "Fuck you, Kathryn!" he yells.

An older lady tuts at him and shakes her head. The receptionist stands up, ready to try and calm him. He storms away, but he can feel Kathryn following behind him.

"Chakotay..." she calls.

"Leave me alone!" he shouts, people staring at him in alarm as he storms by. "Just leave me alone, Kathryn!"

She's there at his side, invading his personal space. "Is that what you really want? Do you want me to disappear and you never see me again? Is that what you want, Chakotay?"

He stops. "No..." he moans. He leans against the nearest wall, pressing his forehead against the cool metal hospital sign. "Kathryn..."

He feels her hand on his shoulder, "I'm here..."

"Why? Kathryn, why?" he moans into the wall, rolling his head side to side, his hands clenching into fists at his side.

"Don't make me leave," she whispers, her voice rough in his ears. "Don't make me leave you."

"Stay," he pleads, turning his head to look for her. She's at the far end of the corridor, looking at him, hands by her side.

"Always," she answers.

The next few weeks pass, Chakotay doesn't sleep unless he's downed a bottle of whiskey. He barely eats and only washes when the smell of himself makes him feel sick. He ignores all messages and remains hidden inside his darkened bedroom. He sits up each night, drinking himself into oblivion, fighting to keep her at bay. He fails each time and finally falls into a stupor, Kathryn before him, lost in his distorted memories of her.

His sister visits him unannounced, and after letting herself in, she is instantly concerned. She looks around in disgust at the mess that is his apartment. She grimaces at the smell and gasps when she stumbles over the pile of empty whiskey bottles. She walks in to his bedroom to find him talking to an empty chair.

"Chakotay?" she asks. "Who are you talking to?"

He spins around, eyes wild. "Leave me alone!"

Sekaya's eyes widen. She gazes at her brother, her heart breaking for him. Devastated isn't even an adjective that comes close to how her brother looks.

"Chakotay, I'm worried about you," she says softly. "Let me help you."

"I need a drink," Chakotay snaps, storming towards the door. Sekaya steps in front of him.

"No, Chakotay, you don't," she says, shaking her head. She places her hands onto his chest.

"Get out of my way," Chakotay barks. He shoves her away, but she grabs at his arm. "Let go of me!" he yells.

"It won't bring her back!" Sekaya cries, her grip tightening on his arm. "It won't bring any of them back!"

All the fight leaves his body and he crumbles into his sister's arms.

"Help me," he pleads. "I can't..."

Sekaya holds him close and whispers words of comfort as he cries into her shoulder. She sits him down and tells him she will help him and true to her word, she does.

She takes him back to Trebus and surrounds him with love. He speaks to the Elders of the village where he stays, takes part in some of the ceremonies he had forgotten during his time away. He reconnects with family and old friends, they talk of loss and love and he finds the wounds to his heart and soul, slowly starting to heal. Chakotay even finds himself opening up to Sekaya about Kathryn. He sleeps, sometimes for days at a time, his body needing the recovery. He eats good food, avoids alcohol, plays games with the youngsters of the village. For a while, it works. For the first time since it all happened, he begins to feel like his old self, his mind is clearer, his appearance less haunted and the ghost of Kathryn, whilst never leaving, is now just a blur on the periphery of his vision.

He dreams of her each night though, it's the only time he truly lets her in. They are on New Earth, she's digging about in the tomato beds, laughing at the monkey, sitting across a table from him. In his dreams, she doesn't define parameters, they end up in her bed and he is granted more time loving her.

Each time he wakes with a smile on his lips and the memory of her in his arms. And even though that smile quickly fades, the pain of waking gradually eases. It no longer makes him choke on each breath. It no longer tears at his heart. Instead, it's just a dull ache, forever there, but slowly more manageable.

Then, one day, weeks before the twelve month anniversary, he receives notification telling him Gretchen Janeway has passed away. The news knocks him sideways and before Sekaya can reason with him, he's on the next shuttle back to Earth.

His mind has no time to catch up before he's stood in a graveyard at the back of a large congregation, paying his respects. He's lost in his own thoughts when a hand rests upon his arm, he turns and gasps audibly. The woman before him is Kathryn, only slightly different. Her hair is longer, darker, curlier. Her clothing is more loose and floaty than Kathryn would ever wear, her eyes a deeper shade of blue, but the expressions and mannerisms are all Kathryn. She offers him a smile and says, "Commander Chakotay?"

It takes a few seconds for his brain to kick into gear, "You must be, Phoebe, Kathryn's sister?" The woman nods. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Phoebe's eyes fill with tears, "Mom never recovered after Katie," she says. "It killed her. She couldn't get past losing her."

Chakotay nods his understanding, though it feels odd hearing Kathryn referred to by her family pet name. He bites back the urge to enforce the name of Kathryn, but he knows he has no right. She's not his. Not in the living world anyway.

"My mother spoke of you," Phoebe adds. "I think you gave her some comfort."

Chakotay dips his head to look at the floor.

"I hope someday you find your own comfort." Phoebe's voice is soft. "Katie would have wanted that."

Chakotay cannot speak. What can he say? He gives Phoebe a brief nod and watches her move away, back towards her husband and remaining family.

He turns to walk away and there she is. It's been a while since he has seen her so clearly in the waking world, but there she is. She's sat on top of a gravestone, legs crossed and smiling at him, her head on one side. She looks like she's about to make some big decision, one he probably won't like. She slips down from the gravestone and saunters away, her figure slowly disappearing.

He groans. He feels that fragile grip on his life begin to slip. He no longer feels clear of mind. He feels the hazy fog of despair gathering around the edges.

Arriving back at his apartment, he sees the unread messages blinking on his screen. Many from his sister and one from an Admiral Paris. His heart pounds as he opens the message. It's an invite to a 12 month remembrance service. He feels sick.

He ignores the message and heads towards his punchbag hanging by the window. He begins to rain punches onto the unforgiving leather. He cares not that he isn't wearing his gloves, or that he isn't dressed for boxing. He just keeps punching until he feels the skin on his knuckles crack and break. He continues to pound the bag until

he hears a different pounding on his door. The continual beeping of his door chime seeps into his mind and he offers one final, brutal blow to the bag before spinning round.

"Come!" he yells.

The door opens and an angry, disheveled Harry Kim stumbles through the door. He looks like hell. His hair is unkempt, a beard grows wildly around his mouth and down his neck and his clothes look like he's lived in them for God knows how long.

"Are you going?" Harry wastes no time on pleasantries.

Chakotay needs no further explanation. He is fully aware of what he's talking about. It's been in his head since he saw the message.

"I think we are the star attraction," Chakotay replies grimly.

"I'm not going." Harry shakes his head. "I can't! How can I stand there knowing that I killed them?"

He pulls at his hair and the anguish is evident. Chakotay recognises it all too well.

Something inside brings forth the former Commander Chakotay, the man who knew how to calm such a situation, the man he thought he'd lost, but until a few hours ago, had started to recover.

"Harry, it was not your fault. It was a mistake. The odds of success were against us, yet we still went ahead. We all agreed. You know that. It was an accident. You can't keep blaming yourself."

"Can't I?" Harry roars, he lunges towards Chakotay until he's in his face.

"150 people, Chakotay. I made a mistake and killed them all! They trusted me. Tom. B'Elanna. Tuvok...Naomi..." his words turn into a moan and he stumbles backwards, the sheer weight of the guilt making his knees buckle.

Chakotay swallows hard, the image of the little girl, born on Voyager, vivid in his mind. The only home she ever knew, now her grave.

"Neelix. The Captain. Dead because of me! Because I got it wrong! All for a .42 fucking phase variant!" Harry's voice cracks and he chokes back a sob.

Chakotay grimaces as the image of Kathryn flashes through his mind. He hasn't the strength to hold it back. He feels his grip on reality slip further.

"How did you die, Kathryn?" he wonders. "Did you think of me?"

"Yes..."

His ears are filled with screams, crunching metal. His stomach lurches, dampeners failing, a free-fall into oblivion and then the sensation of every bone in his body being shattered. It's horrific. He clutches his head..."No!" he whimpers, praying for the images to cease. But they don't. Bodies tossed about like tiny boats on a raging sea. Lights and conduits exploding, the burning of flesh and uniform. Life support failing. The cracking of a skull as it connects with the floor. The boiling of blood as they descend through an atmosphere too quickly.

He tries to push it away, but then he sees movement in the doorway of his bedroom, and there she is. Walking slowly along the perimeter of the room, arms folded, a pensive look upon her face.

"I killed them," Harry moans. He spins and kicks out at the table, sending it tipping over. He slumps to the floor, hands grabbing at his hair and pulling, his face twisted into an agonised scream that fails to come. "I can't do this. I can't go on living with what I've done."

Chakotay watches Kathryn stop, she looks across at Harry and there's no mistaking the tears in her eyes. She rolls her head from side to side as if easing out tension from her shoulders. Slowly, she moves towards the window.

"Help him," her voice whispers through his mind. "He needs you."

Chakotay looks down at the young man whose future had been so bright. Just a boy, he had begun to blossom on Voyager into a man. Where did it all go wrong? The haze in his mind grows thicker, reality and fantasy merging into one.

"I blame myself," Kathryn's voice rolls through his mind. "I put too much pressure on him. Help him, Chakotay."

Harry is rocking on the floor, huge sobs wracking through his frame, which Chakotay notices, is frighteningly frail. He turns away from the sight, he can't bring himself to help him.

"I don't know how!" he mutters. Kathryn moves closer with a soft smile.

"You will work it out," she says softly. "Help each other."

"I only need you. He can't help me!"

"Yes, he can."

"I need you, Kathryn, I can't do it without you!" he murmurs.

Kathryn offers a sympathetic smile. "You can. You must. Live for the living, not for me."

"Don't...don't go," he begs softly. "I'm not ready to let you go!"

"Chakotay," she sighs, she moves closer, her mouth to his ear, "I'm here. Always. You just need to look. But, for now, help him. Do it for me."

He closes his eyes and nods, he feels the ghost of a kiss upon his cheek and when he opens his eyes, she's gone. His mind is suddenly much clearer.

He turns back to Harry and pulls his shoulders back. From deep within, he summons up all the strength he's ever had.

"Right, enough of this shit, Ensign! Get up, get washed, we're going to sort out this whole bastard mess, once and for all!"


	4. Chapter 4

The message came through to Chakotay's personal console. Sent with the seal of the Admiralty.

 _"Searches for the missing vessel, Voyager, will be terminated by the end of the week. No sufficient evidence to suggest any recoverable material is present."_

Chakotay slams the desk hard and sinks to the floor. All these years, he's worked alongside the top analysts, running simulations, plotting the potential locations of Voyager, and for what? For them to pull the mission? To end the search?

Damn them!

Eight years he's given to this project, and for nothing? He paces the room, it's pointless calling anyone. The decision has clearly been made. He can call all the people in the Federation, it won't change the decision.

The fog inside his mind begins to descend again. For 8 years, he's kept the despair at bay, held her back from his thoughts. Each setback brings her forward again, he can't let it take hold. Her image begins to form and he squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head.

"Chakotay..." he hears her voice, but refuses to answer. "Are you with me?"

He sees the flash of a red uniform in the doorway, feels the touch of her hand on his shoulder. He can smell her perfume, feel her lips against his. His hands quiver at the feeling of her soft skin beneath them. Even now, after almost 9 years since she died, she comes to him so easily.

He starts to let the images flow, she's sitting across from him on a boat, sipping champagne on a holographic Lake George. She's laid naked beneath him on that final morning, the morning she died, her hands gripping his back, her moans and sighs of pleasure in his ears.

"Do you still love me?" she whispers inside his head.

"Yes," he says out loud to his empty room.

His mind swims back and forth, images of her tumbling over each other, merging from reality to fantasy and back again. His hand is inside his trousers, wrapped around himself and as he thinks of being inside her, visualising her face gripped in ecstasy, and quickly he's flying over the edge, crying out her name, his hand and pants the only recipient of his desperate love.

His name echoes through his mind and he groans to himself in despair.

He wants a drink, he moves towards his replicator and gets as far as keying in the first code when he realises what he's about to do. He turns away, pushes the images back and sighs to himself.

He does the only sensible thing he can think of. He calls Tessa.

Tessa Ormond has been a constant in his life for some time now. A brilliant scientist, she shares his interests and has a desire to find Voyager. She never asks questions and has just been a comforting presence.

She answers his hail instantly and they meet up in a little cafe not far from the laboratory they have been working.

With sympathy, she listens as he reveals his frustration. She offers him hope, suggesting they can work together, under the radar. Keep the hunt going.

For the first time, Chakotay sees Tessa as a woman, a friend, a source of comfort.

That night he ends up in her bed.

He feels nothing the following morning, no guilt, no relief. Just nothing. He looks at Tessa and feels nothing. He can't even sense Kathryn. His mind won't let him think of her.

He thinks he could get used to feeling nothing.

Tessa doesn't seem to court the idea of it being a one-night stand. She makes him breakfast, talks of their plans to keep the search going, she gives him hope and something close to love.

He thinks she's what he needs. He makes it clear to her that he's damaged. That he can't offer her much.

Tessa doesn't seem to mind. She merely shrugs and leads him back to bed.

Maybe she thinks she'll change him. Maybe she thinks he'll fall in love with her. Maybe she hopes he will forget.

He has no intentions towards any of that. He won't change until he knows the answers of that day. He will never love anyone again, his heart is lost somewhere in the Delta Quadrant, on a ship, with a woman whose name he refuses to speak out loud, but, will never forget.

But, if they can offer each other anything, if she can make the nights seem that little less lonelier, then he'll take it.

And for Tessa, she's happy with anything he gives her. Life has not been kind so far, she's learnt already not to expect much from anything or anyone. She learnt that when her Father left, followed quickly by her mother. She learnt it from each and every boyfriend, she was just Tessa, nothing special, nothing worth fighting for.

As time passes, she believes he has affection for her, maybe even something akin to love. He never says the words though. She says them to him and he always smiles back, kisses her head and leaves the room.

She thinks this should bother her. But, it doesn't. She knows where his heart lies, back on Voyager, with a woman he won't ever speak about. She imagines him in the bed of Kathryn Janeway, wonders what they talked about, how and where they made love. She has no idea if they even did have sex, but from the way Chakotay has totally shut down about her, she's pretty certain they did. And it excites her. She's always known she has been a masochist. She actually likes the pain of loving him more than he can give her in return.

Councillors would have a field day with her.

But, she doesn't care. It's why she suggests the plan to him and Harry. It's why she convinces them it will work. The pain of the potential outcome of this plan is thrilling, exciting and if nothing else, it will end the torment of knowing he can't love her in the way she wants.

She knows he loved the Captain of Voyager. Knows he's still in love with her. He's never said it, but she sees it in his eyes whenever she is mentioned. Hears it muttered as he sleeps. Tastes it in his kiss, she poetically thinks she can even taste her still on his lips.

Kathryn Janeway, the celebrated Captain, the woman who merged two crews from two different worlds. The woman who tamed the wildest members of the Maquis, the woman who had the violent Kazon Nistrim quaking in their alien boots. The woman who captured the heart of a Maquis captain and even in death won't let him go.

She would love to hate her, but she envies her instead. She secretly reads everything about her. Imagines her. Fantasises about knowing her personally. Hell, she's even imagined a threesome with the woman! What kind of spirit can take hold of someone without meeting them? What sort of woman does that make, Kathryn Janeway? And how can she, Tessa Ormond, even compare? What kind of woman does that make her?

One who can never compete.

It's this need to constantly bring pain to herself that sees her carry on working and sleeping with Chakotay. It's what sees her end up on the wrong side of the law, racing towards changing the timeline and erasing the last 15 years of her life.

Sometimes, in the night, after they have had sex and Chakotay leaves her bed to stand by the window, she wonders if she's doing the right thing.

But, as she stands on the broken bridge of Voyager, hears the final message Captain Janeway ever recorded, sees the look on Chakotay's face, she knows she can't change things now. Knows she can't go back. Looking down at the frozen corpse of the woman she is giving up her life for, she offers up a, "You owe me!" before moving to comfort Chakotay.

Sitting in the cockpit of the shuttle in the final seconds of her timeline, even then, she loves the thrill of the heartache of it all. The fact he finally confessed his love for Kathryn, the fact he could never feel like that about anyone else, it's terrifying and exciting. The exhilaration of knowing she's about to die unloved by anyone kind of makes it all worthwhile.


	5. Chapter 5

"But, Captain...I didn't send any corrections to Seven?" Harry's voice crackles slightly over the comm link.

The bridge crew look at Captain Janeway and then at Seven.

Seven raises an eyebrow at her station, she clearly looks perturbed.

Janeway stalks up and down the command deck, hand on hip, a frown developing across her brow. Something isn't right here, something feels wrong, but there's no time for that. She comes to a halt and folds her arms. She looks up at the ceiling and tries to hold back the wave of disappointment as the truth develops around her.

They failed.

"We will have plenty of time to go over all the details, Mr Kim. Set a course to dock the Flyer with Voyager. All senior staff will meet at 13:00 hours for a full team debrief." Janeway announces, she doesn't even try to keep the disappointment from her voice and silently curses herself for that momentary weakness. She berates herself and makes a mental note to speak personally to Harry to make sure he doesn't blame himself too severely.

She leans against the rails of the command deck, her head falling forward and sighs.

"So near, yet not near enough," she mutters. She pushes herself back upright and looks towards the view screen. A screen that still shows the star systems of the Delta Quadrant rather than the welcome blue marble of Earth.

At his station, Tom Paris turns round to look at her.

"Closer then we were, though," he says with a shrug. He offers her a look that tells her to be more positive.

Janeway steels herself, her mouth a thin line, her jaw set so hard it almost hurts. She nods at her helmsman. Message received and understood.

"Make the necessary arrangements with the Flyer and alert me when they are ready to dock. I'll be in my ready room." she addresses Tom and turns to leave the bridge.

Janeway strides into shuttlebay one as soon as the Delta Flyer docks. She stands, hands on hips, waiting impatiently to get the whole story of the failed Slipstream Drive. She tries to remind herself of the positives of the day's mission, but to her dismay, she's struggling.

Inside the shuttle, Chakotay completes the shutdown sequence, but something doesn't feel right. Nausea washes over him, followed by a sense of foreboding. His stomach twists and churns, he clutches the console for a moment, praying that he won't be sick. He can't put his finger on it. It's like Deja Vu, but different. Almost like he's been here before. But in a different way. In a different time. A shiver runs down his spine. He feels a cold sweat pass through his body and swallows back the bile rising into his mouth.

He shuts the Flyer down and turns to Harry. Harry looks pale, as though he's seen a ghost. He runs a hand through his hair. Chakotay looks at him, mistaking his grimace as fear of the Captain and what she will say.

"Don't worry, Harry. It was a simple mistake, the Captain will understand." he offers as reassurance.

Harry shakes his head, "It's not that. I just feel odd, like I've been here before."

Chakotay frowns. It's how he's feeling too. He gathers his things and heads towards the hatch, Harry behind him.

"I didn't send that correction to Seven, I swear, I didn't." Harry mutters, as if to himself.

Chakotay feels his vision begin to swim, the room contorting before his eyes, "We can talk about it later. I have to get out of here," he grimaces, swallowing hard. His legs are like jelly as he reaches for the hatch.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Harry gasps.

Janeway steps closer to the shuttle as the hatch hisses open. She feels the lurch of her heart as Chakotay comes into view, images from the previous night floating perilously close to the forefront of her mind. She moves to meet him at the bottom of the gangway and frowns slightly as she catches his expression. He is pale and a sheen of sweat covers his face. He appears to be panting, staggering towards her.

"Chakotay?" she asks, no rank, just concern for the man, her friend, and as of last night, her lover.

He lunges forward, he can't understand it, it feels like he hasn't seen her for years, yet he knows it is mere hours since he left her bed, since they embarked on their day's work. All he feels now is the desperate urge to touch her, to know she's real.

He makes it almost to where she is standing before he collapses forward, she reacts quickly and he finds himself in her arms, but his legs and her body cannot hold him, they both stagger and she lets her legs give way and sink with him to the floor.

"Ayala!" Kathryn shouts to her security officer. The syllables of his name have barely left her mouth before Ayala is at her side, taking the majority of Chakotay's weight, allowing her to remove herself from beneath her stricken First Officer.

"Chakotay?" she asks, moving to kneel over him, her hands either side of his face.

His eyes are wide, pupils dilated, a bead of sweat trickling down over his tattoo.

"You're alive!" he manages to gasp, his hands grabbing at her upper arms. He can't stop the words leaving his mouth, there's no reason to say it, and yet, somewhere deep in his mind, it makes perfect sense.

Janeway looks up at Ayala, she can see he's as concerned and confused as she is. She looks across at Harry, who is in no better shape. He's slumped on the floor, a stunned expression on his young face, he suddenly bends forward and vomits violently onto the floor of the bay. She needs to see no more and calls the Doctor for an emergency beam out to sickbay for the two men.

As the shimmering blue fades, leaving only Janeway in the shuttle bay with Ayala, she turns to him. He looks worried as he gets to his feet, he rubs his forehead and gives his head an almost imperceptible shake.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you home today," she says softly, realising she will have to apologise to them all.

Ayala shrugs, holds his hand out to her and pulls her to her feet.

"No worries, Captain. There's always tomorrow."

Janeway studies him for a moment, relieved to see he is being honest. A brilliant smile erupts across her face and she pats his shoulder with a nod, "There's always tomorrow," she agrees.

Hours later, after studying the data, the reports from the Doctor, re-running simulations and reviewing the message received by Seven, the conclusion is obvious; if they had used Harry's corrections, Voyager would have been thrown from the slipstream, resulting in certain death for all the crew onboard.

Harry and Chakotay recover quickly from their moment in the shuttle bay and are there for the 13:00 team debrief, they have put the little episode on the Flyer down to the stress and disappointment of the situation, but the Captain has other ideas.

She reveals her theory of a temporal anomaly and the potential idea that the timeline has been changed. They are all set to task to investigate further.

It's not long before a hidden message within the phase corrections received by Seven does indeed show a temporal variance, confirming Janeway's theory. A message from the future to the past, a future that now no longer exists. It's a lot for them all to take in and the mood on Voyager is quiet and reflective.

There is no joking around, no laughter, just quiet acceptance, everyone lost in their own thoughts.

Chakotay is laid on the sofa in his quarters, staring up at the ceiling, he is trying to make sense of the day's events. The message from Harry Kim to Harry Kim. The change of timeline. A change that finds him lying in his quarters, the rest of the crew safe and alive compared to the alternate timeline where they would be dead and he would be living a nightmare.

15 years.

He closes his eyes, he can still sense something deep in the back of his mind, hazy thoughts he can't hold on to, he chases them around his mind, even though something warns him they are memories he would not fondly recall.

The chime on his door rings before 21:00 hours. Without moving from his spot, he calls for entry. He knows who it will be. He turns his head to watch her, she moves towards him, her jacket has been discarded somewhere and she has removed her boots. There's an unreadable look on her face.

She slides over him without a word, settling herself half across his chest and half resting against the back of the sofa. She lays a hand upon his chest and wriggles her hips so she fits perfectly against him and the sofa. She rests her chin on the hand resting on his chest and looks up at him.

He smirks at her indulgently. A wave of something close to gratitude sweeps over him.

"Comfy?" he asks, his arm wrapping around her, making no attempt to hide the delight he feels at her actions. Considering the determined set of her jaw that morning as they dressed and the way she looked at him as he left her quarters, he had honestly believed that if the mission failed, she wouldn't come anywhere near him again. Having her now laid across his body is more than he could have ever dared to dream about.

"Very," she answers, smiling back up at him. Her face suddenly stills, her eyes taking on a look of concern. "How are you?"

He sighs and looks back up at the ceiling. "Confused. Grateful. Disappointed. Happy." he says softly. "I don't know how I am."

"Well, I'm grateful. Without you and Harry, 150 people would all be dead." She's still looking up at him and unconsciously he pulls her closer.

"But, we didn't get home," Chakotay sighs. He's not sure how he feels about that. Home to him is Voyager, but home also means anywhere Kathryn is.

"There's always tomorrow," Kathryn answers, a smile playing across her face as she recalls Ayala's blasé attitude.

Chakotay laughs long and richly, "Kathryn Janeway, you never cease to amaze me!"

She looks up with a grin, lifting herself up to look more clearly into his face. "Why?"

"I thought you'd be pacing the corridors like a caged beast. Yelling at the injustice. Sulking in your quarters..." Chakotay looks down with a grin.

"I don't sulk!" Kathryn huffs indignantly. "And, beast? Thank you!"

"I thought you'd be avoiding me..." he adds gently. Afraid that it still might be the case.

She plays with a loose thread on his jacket, her face flickering through a range of emotions.

"Chakotay...I...maybe I should be. But today...it's been, hard, and,15 years..." she struggles with the words.

"Must have been hell." He grimaces at the thought, did that really happen to him? What did it do to him?

"I'd rather get home tomorrow, or next week, or in 10 years, but with us all alive than risk everything today." Kathryn draws a pattern across his chest. Listening to the message from a Harry Kim of the future had opened her eyes. He had looked like hell, all down to her reckless insistence they go ahead with the mission. He had had to live with that mistake.

"15 years. I can't imagine how we lived with it," Chakotay says as if reading her mind.

She looks up at him and offers a playful smile, she reaches up and gently strokes her hand down the side of his face.

"Did you miss me?"

Something twists Chakotay's stomach, a physical pain that rips briefly through his being, "Yes..." he gasps. He pulls her closer, his hand gripping at the material of her trousers, his entire being tensing with something he can't define. As the pain passes, he carefully relaxes, his grip on her loosening. "I'm sure I did."

"Hey," she says softly, her hand tilting his chin towards her, making him look at her, "that timeline has gone."

He nods softly. "Thank the Spirits."

She lays her head back onto his chest and sighs softly. Chakotay lays still, looking back at the ceiling.

"Kathryn, what are we doing?" he asks the panels above his head.

She lifts her head and smiles, "Well, I think we are laid on a sofa."

He smiles at that and turns his head, "I mean this. Us."

Kathryn's eyes sparkle, she pulls herself up and straddles his waist, resting her hands onto his chest, leaning forward to place a kiss just shy of his mouth.

"What do you want it to be?" she asks against his mouth. Her hair falls forward and tickles at his cheek and he can't help but inhale the scent of her, his hands wrapping around her hips. He never wants to let her go and is beginning to believe she feels the same.

"I want it to be you and me. Together." he says softly, hardly daring to hope.

"I meant what I said last night," Kathryn answers, kissing at the other corner of his mouth. "It's you I want. You I need."

She traces kisses along his jaw, nipping gently at his skin, revelling in the feel of him. Yes, this is exactly what she wants and needs.

"Voyager. The crew. Protocol..." Chakotay says the words as if they are poisonous.

Kathryn stills and pushes herself upright and she cocks her head to one side, "For someone who says they want this, you're offering a lot of potential obstacles."

"I want you," he says, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter and shivers slightly as she rolls her hips over his groin.

"Then, protocol be damned! 15 years, Chakotay. We cheated time today, I don't think we should waste any more of it." She lets a soft smile begin to play across her lips. "Do you?"

A smile slowly blooms across his face and he shakes his head, his hands hold her hips in place and she leans back down, their lips meeting for a soft, sensual kiss.

"I've missed you today," she murmurs between kisses. Her hips rocking gently over his.

He groans softly and wrapping his arms around her back, rolls her to the side and shifts himself so that he's looming half over her. She smiles up at him.

"You have no idea," he growls leaning down to kiss at her neck.

"Are you with me?" she murmurs softly in his ear.

"Always," he responds immediately and then drowns out any further words with his mouth on hers.

The End.


End file.
